


The Long 15

by Vasisthae



Category: Fallout (Video Games), Fallout: New Vegas
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-07-29
Updated: 2018-08-02
Packaged: 2019-06-17 23:26:20
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 17,816
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15472452
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Vasisthae/pseuds/Vasisthae
Summary: Life was already difficult for Vincent. He couldn't even be born right... It seemed with how things have been going for him lately, Lady Luck just couldn't make up her mind whether to hate or love him.





	1. They Went-That-a-Way

**Author's Note:**

> Something I've been writing for a while for myself. Figured maybe it's good and other people might like it? Guess I gotta see where it goes.

Vincent hadn't been the luckiest man in the Mojave. Only a month ago, he had been shot in the head and miraculously survived. But now his pistol jammed and a deathclaw lurched ever closer towards him. He fell back onto the parched soil as he stared into the abysmal eyes of the monstrous beast. It descended onto him and time itself slowed to an agonizing halt. Snarling and bloodthirsty, ready to sink its fangs into the pitiful boy, yet he couldn't do anything but watch in horror. His legs kicked back and away from the beast as his screams caught in his throat. Then it lunged at him.

All went silent. He expected pain, yet there was nothing. His ears deaf, then the ringing, and finally he could hear again.

Dead. Vincent stared into the creature's lifeless, yet still disturbing and hollow eyes. The paralyzing fear of the monster loosened its grip as his eyes trailed to the NCR Ranger that loomed above him. Soon awe replaced his fear. He yanked off his sunglasses and looked at Vincent with frigid blue eyes. He rest the heavy sniper rifle on his shoulder. "Didn't your ma ever tell to you not to play with deathclaws?"

"She also told me not to talk to strangers," Vincent muttered. He kept his eyes locked on the Ranger. He had never even laid eyes on a Ranger before. From the pictures he had seen, they were quite intimidating and this one even more so with the hefty sniper rifle on his grips. A heavy duster, dotted with bullet holes over the old-world armor that gleamed in the sunlight. Dust laden and worn out jeans tucked into combat boots that must have two-lifetime worth of the Mojave. A sequoia strapped to one leg then a pistol above that. Definitely an NCR Ranger.

"You might want to start headin' back the way you came," he suggested.

"But I need to get to Primm..." Vincent stated.

The Ranger looked to the innocent boy with narrowed brows, "You want to get ripped apart by deathclaws?"

"It doesn't sound pleasant now you mention it..." He flinched under the intense gaze of his savoir. He never imagined an aura of death surrounded a Ranger, even if he should have, given their work.

"Why you heading to Primm anyway? Powder-gangers are in that area and from the looks of it, you hadn't even grazed this deathclaw, how in _the_ hell do you expect to 'fend yourself from convicts, let alone a scorpion?"

Vincent's brows furrowed and he looked to the scaled beast in front of him. Its head bled out yet its dead eyes stared at him as if it would pounce at any moment. "You don't have to be mean about it," Vincent grumbled. He crossed his arms and sighed. "Honestly, I don't know. I just wanted revenge on the guy who tried to kill me..."

The Ranger arched a brow. "Well, be thankful he _didn't_ kill you."

"He was aiming to," Vincent's eyes flared. "He shot me in the head and left me to die."

"You must have some bad luck then."

"But you're probably right. I can't fend for myself," Vincent shrugged and looked to the graveled and cracked ground and all hopes of revenge diminished. Once again he managed to get himself into trouble and barely make it out. _Once again_ he was unable to stand up for himself.

Maybe if he was a _real_ man.

The Ranger looked over him with a sigh. He surveyed the wasteland surrounding them. Mountains crawling with deathclaws. Raiders hid among the old ruins and not mention hostile tribals... This kid wouldn't last a second. "I'll take you to Primm. Just don't get yourself killed on the way."

He snapped his attention to the Ranger. He would help? "But, I imagine you're needed elsewhere, being a Ranger n' all."

The Ranger gritted his teeth as he looked away. "I'm not needed anywhere, _yet_." He sighed. "Vacation of sorts."

"Oh..." Vincent glanced to the parched soil between their boots. "Then what are you doing out here?"

"Like I said; 'cation of sorts," the Ranger shrugged. "So I'm exploring."

"Looks like we have something in common," Vincent smiled.

"Let's head to Primm, we're wasting daylight," The Ranger suggested as he turned for Primm. Vincent followed him closely. He stole an occasional glance at the Ranger's eyes underneath the dark aviator glasses. Beneath the aviators, his eyes darted about while a hand rest on the pistol at his side. He was mysterious... Tall, dark, and handsome too. A strong jawline and a thick tuft of hair on his chin. And underneath that heavy coat... Vincent could only imagine, but he liked the challenge.

"I'm Vincent by the way."

"Lawrence," the Ranger muttered through the cigarette as it hung loosely between his lips.

"Nice to meet you, Lawrence" Vincent said as politely possible. "I never met, or seen a Ranger before."

Lawrence cocked his head, "well, now you have."

"Is it true?" Vincent inquired timidly. "Rangers can chew nails?"

"And spit napalm?" He looked to Vincent with a smirk. "Maybe when the Legion's looking, but in reality, no."

"Rangers are still kind of... intimidating," He observed. Perhaps he shouldn't have stated his thoughts aloud... "But in a good way, I suppose."

Lawrence chuckled as he took his cigarette from his mouth, "We're people just like you, kid." A wide grin crossed Vincent's face at the Ranger's gentle laugh, as if he'd found some pre-war treasure. The Ranger must have had a soft side, like a cactus, he presumed. He averted his eyes to the road beneath their feet as he grin remained.

Vincent hummed as he pursed his lips, "I hope not. I prefer the Rangers to be able to stand up to deathclaws."

"Well, we usually have the proper equipment," Lawrence nodded to Vincent's pistol at his hip. "Your gun's jamming 'cause its poorly lubricated. I _could_ help you with that."

"I'd really appreciate that," Vincent smiled.

After 200 years, stumps remained of the towering casinos of Primm. Only the tall roller coaster gave a glimpse of what the gateway to Vegas may have looked like in its glory days. As the roller coaster's silhouette became defined planks and metal poles, so did Lawrence's paranoia become just as defined. He scanned the surroundings of enormous lots of cracked asphalt. While Vincent may have ignored the rusting skeletons of old-world cars, Lawrence expected powder-gangers to jump from behind them at any moment. Maybe that's how he could avoid run-ins with deathclaws...

Primm was quiet. Eerily quiet and desolate. Hostages of the powder-gangers. Just outside the fortified Whiskey Pete casino was an NCR station. The snipers kept the powder-gangers at a stand-off for miles, but any citizen beyond their bullet's reach was no doubt trapped in the convicts' claim of the town.

"Well looks like the NCR has the better side of town," Vincent said as he looked over the outpost.

"Good eye," Lawrence stated. "The powder-gangers will eventually give up. Only got a months' worth of food and water there."

"Oh I was thinking that because all these old world casinos and resorts," Vincent muttered. "Looks pretty over here."

Lawrence arched a brow as he turned his gaze to the outpost ahead of them. Perhaps he shouldn't have said something so dim-witted... Vincent rolled his eyes with a sigh. A tactical Ranger was not impressed by pretty lights and old-world luxuries.

The NCR guards saluted Lawrence as the two passed through the checkpoint.

He stared across the empty highway of I-15, now a DMZ. The powder-gangers stared back at him from their own fortified base of Buffalo Bill's. Vincent stood behind him, occasionally he stole a peak across the highway..

"Is the NCR doing anything about the convicts aside from just waiting?" So many soldiers, yet nothing was happening. They wandered around their compound and assisted the locals, whether they wanted NCR help or not. When was the actual problem going to be solved.

"No," he stated bluntly as he brought his cigarette to his lips. "You had business here, kid."

"Yeah," Vincent mumbled as he turned away.

Most of Primm's citizens were held up in the casino, at least the ones that evaded the powder-gangers when they swooped in and seized the town. It wasn't a bad place to be, honestly. The old world casino had plenty of rooms and space to move around, but supplies wouldn't last long with hostiles so close.

Among the heavy crowd, Vincent picked out just who he was looking for. "Johnny Nash..."

The old-leather faced man turned from his drink at the bar and looked to the young man. "Hey there youngster, deliver your package already?"

"Not exactly.." Vincent sighed. "It was stolen from me before I was shot and left for dead. I'm looking for who took it and I think they may have come through Primm."

"Hm," the old man hummed in thought. "That's not good, but you seem alright for someone who was shot."

Vincent shrugged, "I'm looking to shoot back. Have you seen a man, maybe in the company of some tribals? He wears a checkered suit..."

"Frankly, I don't see much of anyone unless they're comin' to pick up or drop off a package." He raised a weathered hand to his chin, "Sheriff usually keeps track of everyone who comes through Primm, might want to talk with him."

"Where's the sheriff?"

"I don't quite know. Haven't seen him since the powder-gangers came in, but the deputy might know."

"And where's the deputy?"

"Last I saw, those powder-gangers took him over to Buffalo Bills."

Vincent sighed.

He followed heavy boot prints in the dust of the carpet. This part of the casino looked too been neglected since the combs fell. Yet, it still stood. The mold on the walls wasn't to bad. The paint chipped and fell into the dust that caked the carpet. Old pictures still hung on the walls. Their paint now a blotch of pigment and mold beneath shattered glass or no glass.

He stopped in the doorway. Lawrence lay on a bed, propped on his elbow in the company of whiskey and a tattered magazine. His Ranger gear removed to just the undershirt and jeans. A pleasant sight in light of the bad news.

He glanced up from his reading, "find who you're looking for?"

"Not yet," he stated weakly as he took a step inside the room. "Deputy might know, but the powder-gangers have him."

Lawrence nodded, "First thing in the morning, we get the deputy then."

"You... would help me with that?"

Lawrence shrugged as he lit a cigarette, "town needs law anyhow."

"I don't know how to thank you..." Vincent smiled.

"Get sleep so you don't get shot again from lethargy," he suggested. His lighter snapped and the flame light up his face in an orange glow.

The sweet scent of gecko bacon roused him in the morning, followed by painful pangs in his gut. Lawrence set a hot plate on the nightstand, "eat up then gear up."

Lawrence crashed on the sofa in a mushroom cloud of dust. An opened beer was already in hand and his own plate of breakfast.

"Lawrence..." Vincent raked his fork through the scrambled gecko eggs. "Mind if I ask you something?"

He paused mid sip. "Sure."

"Don't take this wrong way, I just want to know." Vincent tilted his head as he kept his stare on his plate. "Why are you helping me?"

Lawrence shrugged, "I'm a Ranger. I help people."

Vincent pursed his lips. It obviously wasn't the whole story, but he wasn't complaining. Vincent's eyes wandered over the Ranger. His brows always drawn together, but his eyes seemed to have hidden something behind their icy exterior. Years' worth of sleep deprivation conveyed the severity of the Ranger's melancholy. His shaggy hair added to his dark effect as shadows cast across his face and eyes.

He surely wouldn't complain with a handsome Ranger in his company.

Lawrence set his sunglasses on his nose and looked to Vincent. The young man grumbled to himself as he attempted to reload his pistol with some resistance. Lawrence flicked a cigarette butt, "you got it?"

"Y-yeah."

The doors screeched as two-hundred years' worth of rusted metal scraped against each-other. Lawrence went first of course, but Vincent wasn't given much of choice. Two powder-gangers jumped to the entrance-way. Their guns already drawn, but Lawrence let his own rip into them before they could react. The shots scared off any sleep that remained a fog in Vincent's head. His eyes perpetually wide as they crept to the main hall. Lawrence peered around the wall then fired ahead as Vincent flinched behind him with every ear-piercing shot released.

The dim lights flickered the entire length of the hallway. The decrepit casino surely had seen better days before the war. Copious amounts of blood and who knows what else caked the floors. Two centuries worth of trash and debris lined the way and even blocked off a majority of the building. Lawrence halted and Vincent promptly bumped into him, "why we stopping?" He whispered.

He looked to Vincent, "stay here," he suggested, but it sounded more of an order. "And don't get shot."

Vincent pouted but did as Lawrence said. Lawrence continued down the hallway while Vincent found something to occupy himself with elsewhere. A small room, off the hallway of the main entrance. Old, rotted wood shelves still held pre-war merchandise. Anything that wasn't of use for looters or raiders remained and surely wouldn't be of any use to Vincent or Lawrence. Dusty old novelty plates... Empty cola and sarsaparilla bottles littered the floor, but beneath them was even more garbage. But then something caught his eye. A strange shape. Like a gecko, but bigger and meaner looking, despite being so small and made of lifeless plastic.

Vincent grinned and took the figurine from the register stand. Articulate arms still moved in spite its age.

A single shot broke the comfortable silence and jolted the young man. Then a torrent of gunfire followed

Lawrence!

He pulled his pistol from its holster and rushed down the hall without hesitation. However, he missed the party. Lawrence stood before the dead bodies of at least six of the powder-gangers. He turned to Vincent, "look for the Deputy."

"Uh," Vincent nodded as he looked to the bodies. His feet turned for the nearest doorway. A grimy kitchen and a lit stove... Garbled cries grabbed his attention. "You must be Deputy Beagle?" Vincent pulled away the cloth gag.

"Why yes I am. It's a pleasure to meet you," he replied. "... and I'm in a bit of a predicament here and I'd be most appreciative if you'd set me free."

"I hear you may have information on some Khans that came through here with a guy in a checkered suit," Vincent stated.

"Indeed I do good sir, and I would be thrilled to share that information with you as soon as I am released from captivity," he said with a forced grin.

"Oh right," Vincent knelt down and untied the knotted rope around Beagle's wrists.

He stood up and shook the ropes off his wrists. "Ahh yes, my memory is much clearer now that I am free from my bondage," he forced a grin as he wrung his bruised wrist. "I was sku-" He glanced away, " _Performing_ recon, gathering information on some of the powder-gangers, when some great Khans arrived with your friend in the suit. They were talking about some delivery they took from a courier. I assume that was you. They said they'd be heading to Novac to meet a contact there."

Vincent smiled then looked to Lawrence, "guess we're going to Novac."

"Well if you gentlemen don't mind, I'll be heading back to town."

Lawrence holstered his pistol and watched the deputy leave in a hurry. "If we're going to Novac, I suggested we take a different road than the one we were on."

"Why?" Vincent looked up to him.

"It'd take us through Nipton and last time I checked, the Legion nestled themselves in there and I _don't_ want to deal with them." Lawrence's eyes fell on Vincent, "they'd eat you up though."

"What—what do you mean?" Vincent muttered nervously.

"Never mind them, we're going _around_."

 


	2. Keep Your Eye on the Prize

Around.  _ Around _ . Steep mountains and rocky cliffs may have gotten them closer to Novac, but it was a task like no other for the young man. Lawrence, however, was unaffected. Yet from those cliffs, the smoke of the now razed town of Nipton darkened the skies in the distance. It may have been worth it to avoid whatever Legion horrors awaited in Nipton

By the afternoon, they had reached Novac. His legs ached and his feet burned. Tomorrow, blisters would surely arrive. With every gust of wind, he shivered in his dampened shirt, but only hours ago he prayed for such a chill. 

The sun rest behind the hills, what little light remained illuminated the desert skyline with an orange halo. Novac was quiet, surely livelier during the day when the traders and tourists passed through.

“Well butter my butt and call me a biscuit!” A synthetic voice boomed. “If it ain't my old friend from Goodsprings.” Vincent jumped in his shoes, startled awake as he looked to the bulky securitron.

“Uh, hi, Victor,” Vincent greeted the securitron. Wide eyes stared at the screen and all thoughts of sleep vanished. “What are you doing in Novac?”

“Don't rightly know,” the securitron replied. Lawrence squinted at the machine. This one was odd. Nothing like he had seen before. “I just got the notion to make my way to New Vegas. Reckon I'll find out when I get there.”

“Huh, well good luck with that,” Vincent said before joining Lawrence at the doorway of the hotel. 

“What was that?” Lawrence inquired. He observed the machine roam about the town on its singular wheel. A lone securitron that wandered from town to town? Not suspicious at all. 

“That securitron pulled me from the ditch I was buried in,” Vincent explained. “Might be the only reason I’m alive right now…”

“Why am I not surprised the bullet-proof vest on ya didn’t absorb a bullet to the head?” Lawrence tugged the vest wrapped tightly around Vincent’s chest. He groaned as his arms instinctively curled into his chest to deflect too much prodding. Lawrence, however, only chuckled, but Vincent wasn’t amused. 

It was a strange thing for Vincent however, the Ranger knew him only as a boy and treated him as such, yet he feared any interaction that may give way to the truth hidden beneath that vest. Reminders… Reminders that stung like the prickly cacti should you not be too careful.

“Hello dear, can I help you with anything?” An old woman greeted the two as she typed away at a terminal.

“Maybe...” Vincent muttered as he walked to the desk. “I'm looking for a man who may have passed through here, one wearing a checkered suit and probably in the company of Great Khans?”

“Oh yes I remember them. Real rude,” she stated as a bitter taste came to her mouth. “I don't know where they went, but I suggest you talk to Manny. His shift should just about be done.”

Lawrence left first, a cigarette and match in hand. “I think that’s the guy you want to talk to,” he stated with a gesture. Another sniper, like Lawrence, but nothing as intimidating as Lawrence. Not even the rifle was worth a second glance.

Vincent took in a deep breath and straightened his back. He contemplated his words as he approached the man. “Are you Manny?” He asked with a smile.

“Yeah, who are you?” He paused and looked back to Vincent.

“The name’s Vincent. I’m looking for someone who came through, probably wearing a checkered suit,” He explained before a glance back to his companion. Lawrence stayed back and leaned against a rusted fence for a better listen. “Heard you seen him.”

“Sure, I know him. What do  _ you _ want with him?” Manny’s expression refused to betray emotion. The stoic ones were the hardest to read. Would he give Vincent the tidbit of information he needed? Just a hint of something to go on would have been nice…

Vincent’s eyes fell to the soil before returning to Manny. “I, uh, got a score to settle with him,” Vincent stated bluntly. He winced at the sound of his own voice. Too high pitched and not intimidating when he needed it to be... “I just really need to know where he could be headed to…”

“Doesn't surprise me. Guy seemed like he'd do whatever it takes to get what he wants. Probably makes a lot of enemies,” Manny shrugged and crossed his arms. “Well, I can definitely help you find him… Maybe we can do a trade?” he suggested. Lawrence glanced up to him from his mindless fidgeting of a matchbox. The tone of those words didn’t sit well with him

“Really?” Vincent plastered a smile on his face “I have a few interesting things I’ve found in the wasteland…”

Manny laughed. The stoic façade replaced with a smile. “Come with me.”

He paused mid-light and observed the interaction. Voices too hushed to hear as the wind picked up. Surely Vincent had it under control… “Shit!” He cursed as he flicked the burning match from his fingertips.

 Lawrence yawned as he sat up. He combed his fingers through messy hair. Eyes still glued shut from restless sleep. Even a sigh was a chore. 

His mouth was as dry as the desert outside. His feet ached in rhythm with his back. A wince just as an empty bottle of whiskey fell to the floor. The clink echoed. An unbearable scream in his fogged head. 

Then the door creaked to his dismay.

Vincent peered inside as Lawrence squinted. The blinding sunlight created a halo around the small boy and highlighted his disheveled brown hair. He slipped inside, “They’re in Boulder City.” Vincent shut the door carefully and Lawrence grimaced again. Even the faintest noise was a thunderous pain to his ears and head. “Are you alright?”

He looked to Vincent as he took a seat at the table next to the window. The younger man slowly lowered himself into the chair, but his effort was clearly for naught as a flinch twisted his face. “I’m fine; didn’t sleep well.”

“I have a few caps to spare if you’re hungry.”

“Save your caps,” Lawrence stood up with a dismissive wave, “I’ll get us something.” 

The walk to Boulder was long and dreadful. Just as the Ranger knew it would be. He held a scowl under his sunglasses. It was the same scenery he had seen a hundred times before. He did like the views of the ranges and plains, but more often than not it stirred up old memories and older emotions he’d rather forget. Vincent, however, enjoyed the trip more than him. 

He stepped over every crack in the ancient road with care. In the previous miles, he followed the cracks like they were his maps.

The boy was a little strange, but in the cute kind of way. In spite on nearly dying via eating a bullet, Vincent wasn’t put down by it. He still wore his delightful smile like the worn arms of the vault suit tied around his hips. “What are you going to do once you find this guy?”

If that had happened to Lawrence… It would end up like eight other times it happened; his attacker dead and rotten in a ditch somewhere in the wasteland.

“Ask him why he tried to kill me.”

He looked to Vincent, “that’s it?  _ Ask _ him why he tried to kill you?”

“Yeah, he was after something I had; a package I was sent to deliver to a guy in Vegas,” Vincent stated. His brows narrowed as he stared to the ground in front of him. “This whole thing seems really suspicious. Why did he want the package? What’s so important about it?”

“Hm...” Lawrence hummed as he looked into the distant road.

“Maybe I’ll kill him,” Vincent shrugged. “He seems to have a reputation for being an asshole; I might be doing people a favor.”

Kill him… It’s what a real man would do. Or so he thought… Without a doubt he knew a real man wouldn’t let himself be pushed around so much. He  _ will  _ be that man. It must have been that small ounce of hope he held onto with all his might that kept him going.

“Have you ever killed a man before?”

Vincent paused. Lawrence caught up to his side and then he continued walking. “Well….” Vincent’s voice was weak. “Not really…”

Lawrence nodded, but said nothing as he flicked a cigarette butt into a mud-puddle off the side of the road. A first kill, whether out of vengeance or self-preservation, was only easy for a psycho. He remembered his first kill with an uncanny clarity. It was a strange mix of emotion, not something the Ranger would discuss over a game of poker and not something one could prepare for. Yet, he figured it would be a mental burden on Vincent to take a life. Not everyone, no matter how hardened by life and the wasteland could take a life, even if to save themselves. And the boy seemed a little soft in that area…

Another long walk. It was the only way Lawrence kept himself occupied from his own thoughts, but with Vincent’s constant questions about the NCR and Rangers, it became difficult to focus on his troubles. With a companion, the days went by a little faster. Time didn’t linger like shadow or felt so heavy… He had forgotten how better it was to be in someone’s company.

The sun barely glared from behind the mountain ranges. “We ought to stop for the night,” Lawrence suggested.

“Aren’t we close to Boulder City?” Vincent looked back to the Ranger with hopeful eyes.

“It’s a day’s walk to Boulder City, Vincent.” Vincent looked to the dim road ahead of them. “Creepy crawlies and night stalkers don’t make good travel companions,” he explained. “There’s a Ranger station a few minutes north of here. We’ll continue in the morning.”

“Alright,” Vincent sighed. Dinner and a bed sounded good right about now.

“This why you staring down deathclaws? A lil’ too eager for revenge?”

“Pfff,” Vincent dismissed the Ranger with a wave of his hand. “It was just an overgrown lizard.”

“Hah!” Lawrence scoffed as he shoved Vincent. “I’ll remember that next time we encounter one.”

The Ranger station was a small outpost. A simple, but fortified shack with a lookout complete with an almost unnoticeable sniper hidden inside. The shack was cozy, lit by lanterns and filled with the gentle humming of the radio. 

“Howdy Ranger,” a woman greeted them. Another Ranger, but her uniform wasn’t the intimidating riot gear Vincent seen in all the NCR propaganda or what Lawrence wore.

“Been quiet over here, Ranger Mel?”

She nodded and returned Lawrence’s smile, “Rightly so.” She turned the dials on the radio and brought one of the headphones to hers. “Let’s hope it stays that way.”

“We’re staying for night, before moving up to Boulder City.”

“Alright boys, sleep good.”

Lawrence led Vincent to a small room off the main entrance. “Pick a bunk and crash,” he suggest as he did just that on a bottom bed. 

“It’s ok for me to be here?” Vincent carefully sat on the bed. 

Lawrence arched a brow, “Is there a reason you shouldn’t be?”

“No,” he shrugged. “I just thought only Rangers could be at the stations.”

“Well, I’m a Ranger,” Lawrence smirked as he laid back. He swayed his bended knee and closed his eyes. It seemed the Ranger was never at rest. 

Vincent fell back on the cushioned bed with a sigh. “Lawrence, do you miss home?” He turned on his side to look at the Ranger. “Since you travel so much, must be hard…”

The Ranger turned his head to Vincent. His intense eyes bore through him, he couldn’t help but glance away from Lawrence. “I don’t have a home in the republic.” He turned his head back to rest in his arms and closed his eyes. “Open road becomes your home. Miss what you had back in the Republic?”

“Yeah,” Vincent sighed. “I was desperate for caps so I took this job. Didn’t end up so good…”

Lawrence laughed, “I think that’s an understatement.”

The sun hung heavy in the sky above them. Relentless. Still. The ruins of Boulder City shimmered on the horizon. The once enormous city, now reduced to rubble. A tiny section quartered off from the rest of what remained of the town, surrounded by not only a fence of highway signs and cracked drywall, but soldiers awaiting orders.

“So tops send in a Ranger?” A soldier inquired as they approached the crowd. “Lieutenant Monroe, sir.”

“Lawrence. Just passing through,” he informed as they saluted. “What's the situation?” 

“Two Khans took hostages; I don't know if they're alive or not, but I'm not about to let them go.”

Lawrence nodded, “where are they hiding?”

“In the only standing building. What are you planning on, sir?”

“I might be able to take  them out ,” he stated. 

“And save those hostages?”

“I can't guarantee they'll both make  it out ,” Lawrence stated. Despite the gruesome outcome of his plan, he still kept a solemn face as if that was normal…

The lieutenant nodded, “it's worth a try.” 

Worth a try? It had to be done. They deserved to come out alive, but with hostile Khans...

“Wait!” Vincent interjected. “Why can’t we negotiate with them?”

“That could make the situation ten times worse,” Lawrence shook his head.

“Maybe if  _ you _ do it,” Vincent remarked. “I don’t think those Great Khans want to get mowed down by a bunch of rifles.”

“And who do you suppose is gonna talk to them, assuming they’ll stop to listen?” Lawrence turned to him.  “Great Khans will kill NCR on sight. It’s a miracle those soldiers aren’t already dead.”

Vincent rolled his eyes and sighed. “Let me talk to them.”

“Have you ever dealt with Great Khans?”He planted his hands loosely on his hips as he stared the boy. “You wanna shot again?”

“They’d sooner shoot you because you’re with the NCR!”

“Alright,” Lawrence threw his arms up. “I’m covering you from up high. Don’t get shot and don’t say I didn’t warn you.” He turned away before Vincent could say anything.

NCR troops surrounded the last standing building, ready to fire at any moment on the Great Khans. Vincent trudged through the rubble with determination. Despite the adrenaline and fear rushing through his veins, he had good sense to prove to Lawrence wrong. But whether that was worth being shot again… He only hoped whoever he was talking to didn’t have the best aim. The Khans stationed on the rooftop eyed him as he stepped inside. He knocked on the door, “hey… I’m just here to talk.”

He rolled his eyes. Well, it was a start, probably not best, but a start.

Vincent carefully opened the door and came face to face with two Great Khans behind the barrels of their rifles. “What the hell?” The Khan jumped. Guns already pointed at him. “You're that courier Benny wasted back in Goodsprings. You're supposed to be dead!” He lowered his rifle, but less out of familiarity.

“Yeah, that’s what I’m here about…” Vincent glanced to the hostages behind the counter. “But, first I want to make sure we all get out safe.” 

“Jessup, just kill this fool—” His companion spat bitterly.

“Wait,” Vincent raised his hands, “I can negotiate getting  you out of here so you can get back to your Khan friends. Nobody dies! You want that right?” The Khans looked to each other, but didn’t buy what Vincent was selling. “If you kill the hostages the soldiers out there will kill you, but let them go and they may be a bit friendlier.”

Jessup looked over Vincent as if to find his angle, but the Khan’s suspicion would be hard to overcome. “Alright, I’ll let them go...” He nodded. “As long as they hold up their end of the bargain.”

“We won’t die without taking some of you with us,” the other stated and without a doubt, Vincent believed him.

“We’re only here because that traitor Benny ditched us,” Jessup informed. “You’re looking for him, right?”

Vincent nodded, “Yeah. Know where I can find him?”

“Try the Tops,” he suggested as he searched his pockets. He tossed a lighter to Vincent.

Lawrence watched the building like a buzzard circling its prey. Patience. A virtue learned from training, but he was impatient by nature. Complete stillness was never anything good. Then they emerged. Two soldiers. Unharmed, but shaken. He pulled his gaze from his scope and looked to the scene below him. A surprise for once.

Nothing but a sea of rubble and unsure footing. He kept in a limbo of lost then regained balance. “Mind the ground-” Lawrence suggested as Vincent carefully stepped on a chunk of drywall then promptly fell. “-or you'll get hurt...”

“Ow…” Vincent hissed and coddled his scraped arm. 

Lawrence opened his Ranger coat and searched through the many pouches lining his belt. “Sit down…” He sighed.

Vincent sat on the drywall and Lawrence knelt in front of him. Blood trickled from pink flesh outlined by dust and dirt. Lawrence dabbed the ugly scrape as Vincent flinched, then he wound a tight sleeve of gauze around his scathed elbow. He pulled the boy back to his feet, “alright?”

“Yeah,” Vincent grumbled.

Lawrence looked to Vincent as he tried to suppress a laugh. “You managed to negotiate without starting a fire fight, but only to get hurt by your own feet.”

“Is that you complimenting me?” 

“Sure, take it that way,” he shrugged as a pulled a fresh cigarette from a carton.

“I learned something before they left,” Vincent started as he pulled the lighter from his pocket. “Benny is at the Tops.”

“Guess were going to the Strip,” Lawrence smirked. “Always liked it there.”

The desert cooled as they walked well into the night. The bright casino lights illuminated the New Vegas skyline. One stood taller than the others. Reminiscent of a roulette table, it was white and brightly lit at the circular top. So many lights, so many towers. He could only imagine what the city itself looked like. A cold breeze rushed through Vincent and took him from his thoughts for a shiver. Lawrence looked to him as he lit a cigarette, “Doing alright?”

Vincent nodded as he yawned between chattering teeth. “Yeah...”

“Tired or cold?”

“A bit of both,” Vincent muttered. Lawrence pulled off his duster and covered him with the heavy coat. He pulled the warm coat around him and smiled contently when the Ranger wasn’t looking. The high collar shielded his cheeks from the wind and a strong pleasant scent filled his nose instead; masculine, a strong cologne that cloaked the smell of cigarettes and brought about notions of the world before the war. He breathed in deeply. 

But happiness was fleeting with most.

The Ranger certainly wouldn’t offer his coat up if he knew the truth… But whose truth was it anyway? Certainly not Vincent’s. Yet it still nagged him, not a terrible burden as it was before, but the feeling was still present. He wondered if it would ever go away.

“We'll be in New Vegas shortly. Then we’ll get a room for the night.”

“Sleep sounds nice…” He yawned again as he closed his tired eyes.

“Mind if I ask you something?” Lawrence looked to Vincent as he pulled the cigarette from his lips. “Did you sleep with the guy in Novac?”

Vincent's brows furrowed and he quickly looked away from Lawrence. His cheeks flushed. “Um...” He hummed absently as he the night before replayed in his mind. “Yeah, kind of… Maybe?”

“ _ Kind of  _ resorting to prostitution?” Lawrence raised a brow and stuck his cigarette between his lips. 

“We talked… ‘n stuff. He wouldn’t tell me what I needed otherwise…” Vincent stated shyly with a lazy shrug. “I learned a few things from watching the prostitutes where I lived.” Vincent halted in his steps, “Not like that!” He shook his head as he looked up to Lawrence. “I mean, how to talk to people… They could be persuasive.”

A plume of grey smoke collected from Lawrence's mouth, but the wind soon scared it off into the breeze. He was silent for a moment then stated, “when I was your age, I tried that for a while.”

Vincent looked up to him. It was hard to imagine Lawrence playing the role of a prostitute. He wasn’t submissive or looked the type to let anyone take advantage of him let alone touch him. He had to be made of barbed wires, so it was easy to imagine it didn’t work out for him. “What happened?” Vincent asked timidly.

“I met a Ranger who became my friend. I then joined the Rangers and turned my life around.” Lawrence looked down to Vincent who stared at the sun-bleached gravel of the Mojave Desert. “Pretty boy like you would be eaten alive.”

Vincent's face flushed pink and he looked ahead. Pretty Boy. He smiled as the words echoed through his head. “Yeah… The prostitutes were my friends… or my mother’s. They looked after me.” Lawrence lit another cigarette and surveyed the wide-open plains. New Vegas neared, but it still looked so far away. The tall pin-needle tower was like a beacon  in the dark Mojave Desert, louder than the stars and other city lights. The lights made them squint even though it was still so dark. Vincent anticipated just seeing the marvel of the Mojave he had heard so much about, but then he remembered how he got here. He looked the Lawrence, “thanks, by the way, for everything,” Vincent murmured. He grabbed the collar of the coat and stiffened it as if it would hide the blush of his cheeks from the observant Ranger.

Lawrence looked down to him, but couldn't think of anything better to say. “Not that big a deal,” he shrugged and returned his gaze to the city skyline. 

“Well I hope I didn't get in the way of your plans…”

“Not at all,” he stated with a quiet sigh. “Seen one cactus you seen ‘em all right?” 

Vincent chuckled, “I’ve seen some interesting cacti in the desert. Called himself Lawrence.”

The Ranger scoffed.

They arrived late in Freeside, a sprawling shantytown  outside of New Vegas wasn’t as welcoming as the promising lights that lay beyond. They found themselves at the Atomic Wrangler. Plenty of vacancies for the overcrowded city and of course, plenty of booze. At the vacant stage, a rickety table was their lounge. The casino was quiet in the dead of the night, but not entirely empty. Anyone who could get into New Vegas would much rather go there. Lawrence downed his second bottle of beer then lit a cigarette. Vincent sat across from him and scrapped any remnants of food from a rusted can “So what's important about the package you were carrying that someone felt the need to kill you?”

Vincent shrugged, “I don't know, but it's a chip, like a poker chip, but made of platinum.”

Lawrence furrowed his brows as he brought the cigarette to his lips. He kept his intense gaze on Vincent, who hadn't noticed his stare. He scraped his fork against the can. A horrid screech clawed out of the can as he collected the remaining shreds of cram. “Must be important to someone...” Lawrence exhaled a thick cloud of smoke. Every syllable highlighted with it’s own puff of grey. “How old are you, Vincent?”

Vincent raised a brow and twisted the cap back on his water bottle. ”nineteen, almost twenty,” he said with a smile.

Lawrence’s brows furrowed. “You look like you're, at the most…” He squinted, “seventeen.”

“Yeah, I get that a lot…” Vincent sighed. It was an annoyance to be mistaken for being much younger than he actually was. However,  it was better than being mistaken for a girl. That seemed to happen less as of late, but he had no complaints.

“It's not bad,” Lawrence informed with a sudden smile, but Vincent wasn’t convinced. “If you're tired, here's the room key.”

“Thanks,” he stood up and took the key. “Do you have a room?”

“No, I'm fine out here,” he stated as the smoke escaped his mouth. 

“What? That sounds very uncomfortable…” Vincent crossed his arms as Lawrence looked up to him. “Surely the bed can fit both of us. I don't take up a lot of space.”

Lawrence smiled politely as he snuffed the cigarette butt in the ashtray. “I'm going to be up a little while longer.” 


	3. Show Me The Money!

Lawrence sat on the edge of the bed. Bare back arched as he hummed the tune to song from the radio. Once his eyes came to focus, the blots on Lawrence’s back turned to a canvas of tattoos and scars. On his upper back, a caricature of the sun; waving sunbeams of orange and yellow with a solemn face,  black eyes , and a small nose. On his lower back was a caricature of the moon to match; colored a pale blue with the same style of face. Before Vincent could study the other tattoos, he  looked over his shoulder , “morning.”

“Morning already….”

Lawrence stood up as he buckled hsi belt, “get something to eat before we go.”

Vincent groaned as he sat up. Unwilling to leave the comfort of bed and restful sleep. His eyes wandered to Lawrence. His chest and abdomen were perfectly defined, muscular, and sparse of scars and tattoos. The one tattoo he had was small. Artfully drawn across his ribs under his right breast that read a name. 

Marcus… 

“To Vegas, to the Tops.” Lawrence brought Vincent's attention back above the neck. 

“Right…” He mumbled. “I'm going to get breakfast.”

Vincent found himself a seat at the bar and ordered a simple, cheap meal, but anything was better than nothing, even if it really wasn’t. At least better than cactus fruits he scavenged to live off for months. Lawrence joined him not long after. A beer and nothing else. He held his  head up by his hand as vacant eyes stared into the tinted bottle.

“Why you lookin’ at me?” The Ranger mumbled. 

Vincent averted his eyes quickly and stated, “you don't look too good.”

“I didn't sleep well,” he informed before taking a sip.

“Oh, did I bother you?”

He shook his head. “No, my mind keeps me up.”

Vincent glanced away from the Ranger. “I like the tattoos.”

Lawrence arched a brow and glanced to Vincent. “Thanks, I designed them, and my friend tattooed them on.” 

“Oh?” Vincent turned to him, “So you’re an artist?”

Lawrence shrugged as he set his bottle down, “Something like that.” He returned his attention to Vincent, “I haven't done any drawing in a while though…”

“You should! You’re really good at it,” Vincent smiled at Lawrence and he surprisingly smiled back. The Ranger’s genuine smile was a rarity and a treasure when observed. Lawrence then took another sip. “The one on your chest, it said Marcu-”

His smile went as fast as it came. “He's a friend.” 

“Oh…” Vincent looked down to his empty plate. The atmosphere around the Ranger returned to the constant heaviness. Shoulders slumped beneath some invisible burden. “I just thought the penmanship was pretty…” Vincent informed. He hoped his words would scatter that dark cloud that followed his companion, but sometimes he wondered if it only worsened things.

“When you're done there, meet me outside,” Lawrence suggested as he stood up from the stool. Vincent watched him leave. He sighed and pushed away the plate. Did he really ruffle the stalwart Ranger? 

Freeside. Somewhere, maybe in something he read, before the war it was Fremont East. “What do you think Vegas was like before the war?” He stared up to the towers that lay on the horizon. The Strip. So close, but so far and still wondrous. 

“Exactly the same,” Lawrence declared. “World was too. Same song different chorus.”

Vincent hummed, rather disappointed Lawrence’s answer, but he supposed there was truth in it. “Sometimes I think about how life was like. From the pictures and books I read, it was paradise.”

Lawrence looked to Vincent, “Vegas is a little piece of that.”

“More so than Vegas is now, though…” He sighed. Musings of what life would have been life before the war was something he often thought about at  the end of the day . What would he be like? Would he have a family? Or would he still be a bizarre thing to people? Still plagued from being born all wrong? “Why were we born in this time? And not before the radiation?”

Lawrence shrugged, “I don’t know, Vince, but we have to focus on the present ‘cause that's not gonna change if we just focus on the past.”

The poverty stricken population of Freeside was an appalling contrast to what inhabited the strip. Securitrons guarded the entrance. Five of them. Four was more than enough and nobody in Freeside possessed the fire power to even take down two. “No admittance unless you possess a passport or 2,000 caps,” the securitron stated as the screen flickered. Why would the gate to the Strip even need security?

“Passport?” The Ranger sneered.

Vincent looked to the bulky robots. He knew from tinkering experience they were equipped with lasers and machine guns in their multifaceted arms of terror. Only more reasons not to antagonize them. Heavy clapps of shoes against the pavement echoed through the corridor of towers. A young squatter, running as fast as he could passed them. “Halt citizen!” The securitron bellowed.

The squatter didn't even look back before he was incinerated. Vincent grimaced and clenched the sleeve of Lawrence's coat. Who would allow such a thing to happen? Killing someone who just wanted to get into New Vegas? Someone who probably just want a chance at a better life, Vincent postulated. “How are we going to get a passport?” The Ranger appeared unshaken as Vincent looked to him.

Lawrence shrugged. His deep eyes set on the pile of ash on the hot concrete. “I don't know, but for the time I think we’d better not perfect that kid’s technique.”

“Two-thousand caps?” Vincent sighed. “Where do I start?” His chest tightened as his throat knotted.

“We should ask around the stores, see if they have anything to do,” Lawrence suggested. “Something other than prostitution,” he added as he looked down to the younger man.

“Maybe I should give up…” He thought aloud. “Maybe it’s not worth it.”

Lawrence lit a cigarette. “Hey.” He nudged Vincent's shoulder. “There's always gonna be obstacles in life. You just gotta figure out how to maneuver around them.” Vincent looked up to Lawrence. Bright eyes expressed so much with so little. Just another way to do something… A different way to achieve a goal, perhaps, was doable. 

They returned to the Atomic Wrangler after a fruitless search for work around Freeside. However some part of Vincent expected as much. The extreme poverty of Freeside wouldn’t exist if there was work. Lawrence took a long drink. The Ranger seem to take after the cacti of the Mojave. Another beer…. 

Vincent propped his up in his hands as his eyes stared blankly at the old wood table. He studied each of its knots and waves. Obstacles and ways around them. Yet, some stopped entirely.

“Maybe it’s a sign?”

Lawrence arched a brow as he looked up to Vincent. “A sign?”

“That I shouldn’t go after this guy?” Vincent shrugged. “Maybe it’s not a good idea, given he’s already tried to kill me once…”

“Well ask yourself if you really want to,” Lawrence leaned forward on the table. “Is it what you want?”

Vincent sighed. All the times he couldn’t stand up for himself played in his head like an old-war movie. His face twisted. 

Tied up. Heart beating so hard in his chest. He shook. His captors, men he had  never seen before , never met, never slighted dug his grave right in front of him. 

He shook his head and gripped the arms of his chair. “I’m gonna take that goddamn pistol and shove it down his throat and pull the trigger.” Nails dug into the moldy wood.

Lawrence leaned back. “Well, guess that settles it,” brows furrowed as he chuckled. “I for one, wouldn’t mind a night on the strip.” He took a drink of his beer, but nothing met his tongue. Empty again. “And good drinks.” Vincent sat back in his chair and crossed his arms. 

Lawrence pawed through his duster. The cling of caps scrapped together as Vincent looked up. He shook his head, “Lawrence, I can’t ask--”

“You ain’t askin’.” He set the pile of caps in the center of the table. “How much you got?”

He searched his pockets. “I got thirty-two caps to my name…”

“So ‘hundred thirty-eight altogether.” It was a humble pile, but a start. “However, I think I have an idea.” Vincent looked up. A small gleam of hope ignited in his eyes. “I might be able to get you a passport through the NCR. Just have to go through the bureaucratic nonsense.”

“Then let’s do that!”

Vincent had only heard about the enormous base, but it was something to see in person. The high walls managed to withstand the war and subsequent attacks from raiders and the Legion alike. Barely a scratch seemed to mark the looming towers. Inside, hundreds of tents for the hundreds of soldiers spanned what used to be the air-strips. “It’s so big,” Vincent muttered as he turned on his heels to take in the entire airfield. 

“Stay with me,” Lawrence suggested as he set a  hand on the boy’s shoulder 

“You’d miss me if I were gone, wouldn’t you?” Vincent chuckled. The Ranger raised a brow as he eyed Vincent beneath the tint of his sunglasses.

“Well let’s just say if I have to go hunting you down, you’re in for a bad time,” Lawrence informed. Soldiers watched them, but mostly Lawrence. He wondered if it was a morale boost or an ill oman to see a Ranger strolling into the base for the soldiers. However, for Vincent the Ranger had been good luck. 

Only from inside the cooled terminal did the heat mirage off the black top look almost like dancing water. The chipped paint of the pre-war planes shimmered and sway under the bright sun. Some even looked good enough to fly, other however lay gutted and caked in two-hundred years worth of dust, grime, and dirt. He crossed his arms on the back of the chair as a gentle sigh escaped his lips. His eyes lifted to the New Vegas skyline. So many towers. Like little suns themselves shined out onto the desert. So many scatter ruines lay about the sprawling city. 

Was it this big before the bombs? Surely in better condition, but was the Strip the only glimpse into the city hundreds of year ago?

Lawrence sat next to Vincent, but the boy was lost, deep in his own thoughts. He tilted his head and observed the young man with a silent chuckle. A nose, much too big for his face, hooked as well. Red blotches across his cheeks from the relentless sun, but that sun also kissed his hair. He turned in his seat as he rest an arm of the back of the chair. Vincent still had yet to take notice of his companion, until Lawrence waved his hand in front of the boys face.

“Hm?” Brows rose as wide blue eyes looked to him.

Lawrence laughed, “you alright there?”

“Yeah, I was just looking at the view…”

Lawrence  looked out the windows. The only light that came into the terminal was directly from the glass walls. Disguised as a nice view, it was merely better for power consumption. “It is pretty…” He muttered.

“What did the clerk say?”

“It’s gonna take about a week.”

Vincent hummed. It was good he would be able to get in, but it was longer than he’d like. Maybe that was a good thing however. Tiem to prepare was a necessity. What would he even do once he caught the bastard who shot him? 

“Lucky you know a handsome Ranger to sponsor you,” Lawrence smirked.

Vincent smiled as he turned around. “Yeah…” He looked up to Lawrence. “I don’t know if I can repay you, Lawrence.”

“I’m not asking for anything,” he stated. “Just don’t go getting yourself shot in the head again, otherwise it would have been a waste.”

He laughed, “I’ll try not to. I didn’t like it the first time around.”

“Well, let’s get out of here,” he suggested as he stood up. “Paperwork leaves me with a bad taste in my mouth.”

“What do we do in the meantime?” Vincent inquired as he followed the Ranger. Lawrence shrugged as he  pulled a cigarette carton from his coat along with the matchbook. “Think there’s interesting finds around the ruins?”

The Ranger halted in his steps. Vincent stopped just before he could run into the sturdy man. “Hm,” he hummed. 

“What?”

“Look at this,” he gestured to the posters mounted on a bulletin board.

“Bounties? I thought you  _ didn’t _ want me to get shot?”

He arched a brow and looked down to Vincent, “You don’t have to do anything.” He pulled the flyer from its pin. “I’ve heard about these shit-stains. Wanted to take a go at them myself.”

Vincent stood  on his toes to get a look at the flyer in the Ranger’s hand. “Are they raiders? Scavengers?”

“Raiders, looters, typical low-life.” He folded the bounty paper and stuffed into a pocket. “And caps.”

The heat hit them like a brick wall as they stepped out of the terminal. Almost noon and the field was nearly empty. Soldiers retreated to tents to get away from the solar enemy. A few remained out, on guard duty of course, but clung to whatever shade was available. One stood under the overhang of the terminal, cigarette in hand and eyes squinted from shiny reflections while he observed his domain.

“Major Dhatri,” Lawrence greeted him with the common NCR formalities. “Heard McCarran is having trouble with Raiders.”

“Damn right we are,” he grumbled. “And I'm paying bounties.”

“I can take care of those, if you give me a lead on them,” Lawrence stated. 

“Well, it’s about time someone stepped up,” The Major looked to him with just an ounce of hope. “What's your name, Ranger?” 

“Lawrence.”

“Ranger Lawrence,” he nodded. “We didn't get the memo you were coming in today.”

“I'm not here on business,” Lawrence stated. “Me and my friend here are looking for caps. Y’know for the strip and whatnot.”

“Ah,” Dhatri nodded as he looked to Lawrence with the respect the perpetually scowling and battle hardened Ranger demanded. 

And then there was Vincent… “Ah huh… I’ll file this away under civilian contractor.” 

Lawrence peered through the scope of his rifle down onto the ruins of the Las Vegas Steel Factory. The factory’s ruins spanned nearly a mile. It must have been an enormous facility in its time. All that remained now was a decayed sign that hung by a single rusted cable. Any color it may have had was now bleached by the sun. The rebar skeleton embedded in the rubble stuck out from what little of the factory still stood.

In those mazes of steel beams, were raiders, bandits, outlaws, hidden in the drudges of society. Their numbers were their strength so none crossed into their territory, lest they were brave or stupid.

Vincent observed the tiny people through a pair of binoculars, “Snipers are always in pairs; one shoots and one spots, but both know how to shoot.”

“Is it difficult? I've always heard it was difficult...” Vincent asked as he looked to Lawrence., binoculars still attached to his eyes.

“Being able to shoot a sniper rifle is one thing, the real difficulty is can you  _ be _ a sniper,” he stated as he adjusted a gauge on the scope. 

“What do you mean?”

“It's like hunting…” He articulated, however his words were distant. “You decided when this person dies.” He loaded the rifle’s magazine. Bullet by bullet, with patience and care. “Where you put the bullet.” 

“Does it bother you?”

Lawrence paused briefly before looking back into the scope. “I don’t care how many lives I take. It’s about the ones you save from them that matters.” 

“Guess that’s what makes it difficult...”

“Training was a bitch and half, that's true, but I loved it.”

Vincent  looked out to the horizon where their bounties awaited sure death. He never thought about snipers like that. He always imagined it was like killing any enemy. But, he had yet to do that. “Sometimes the things you've done will catch up with you and you regret following those orders,  whether that happens or not , don't forget the cause you're fighting for,” Lawrence stated in a hushed whisper. “Marcus told me that when I was first starting out. My first mission was picking off Legion scouts, boys, not much older than me, but still apart of the Legion…”

“How did that go?” Vincent asked in a gentle voice.

“I killed them.” His words were blunt. Almost easy, as if the killing itself was.  “I never liked the Legion, but I hate them even more so now.”

“Because of the things you've seen?”

“I already knew of the terrible things they did before I joined the Rangers.” He returned his gaze to the scope. Vincent held his breath and closed his eyes. The silence loomed heavy. The longest moment before the impact. The blast echoed through the canyon. He anticipated the boom but Vincent still jumped at the pull of a trigger. That wasn’t a sound you could forget. “They killed my friends.”

“Oh,” the small whisper barely escaped Vincent's lips.

“Cook-Cook is dead.” He declared. Vincent reached for his binoculars. The fiend was indeed dead. His head face down next to a small fire. Food still waited over a grill to be tended. Two of his ilk jogged over to the dead man. They searched for the attacker, but of course they would not find him. “Come here,” Lawrence ordered, his gaze still in the scope. He moved back from the rifle and allowed Vincent to look through the scope. “Take a look and get a feel for the sniper.”

Even mounted on a stand, the rifle was heavy. Strangely cool to the touch. It even felt dangerous to hold. “Wow, everything’s so close,” he muttered. “Should I… shoot them?”

“That's up to you. We have to go down there and take his head, so it'd be easier to get rid of them now,” Lawrence stated as he looked through the binoculars. “Aim just a bit high.”

Vincent followed the fiend closely then pulled the trigger. It was too easy to pull the trigger of such a powerful weapon. The heavy rifle held more of a punch than he anticipated. “Get the other one,” Lawrence encouraged, a hint of glee in his voice.

Vincent placed the raider in the cross hairs as the unsuspecting man looked around frantically. In some attempt to fight back the raider pulled a pistol from his holster, but he had no idea where to shoot let alone who. Vincent pulled the trigger and the fiend dropped dead. Lawrence lowered the binoculars. “Looks like this little flower has thorns,” he teased with a smile. Vincent forced a smile against his better judgement. He could already feel the bruise that would show up on his shoulder tomorrow.

The Ranger’s approval was much desired, yet his stomach knotted.

They left their vantage point and moved down to the body of Cook-Cook. A disgusting odor permeated the man and the stench of death had yet to even take hold. Lawrence knelt at the body. “Might want to look away,” he suggested to Vincent as he pulled his hunting knife from its sheath. He turned his back to the bloody scene with haste.

“So what was this one wanted for?” Vincent asked as he attempted to talk over the awful sounds. He flinched at every stomach churning crack of bone and tear of flesh. Not even his curiosity would allow him a glance.

“Aside from being a drug addict and feeding his addict companions, he either rapes or burns every living thing he  comes across .” 

The knife cut deep one last time.. He gagged. Vincent hoped his breakfast wouldn’t come up for round two. “And that just doesn't sit well with me.” Lawrence stood up. The head of the notorious raider in hand. “Let's get back to McCarran.” Occasionally, Vincent stole a few daring peeks at the head even though it sickened him. His face twisted in disgust each time. “Quit looking at it.”

“I can't help it…”

“Then maybe you'd like to hold him?” Lawrence held up the head. Blood dripped sparsely. Surely a long trail followed them all the way to McCarren.

“No thanks,” he shook his head as he slinked away.

Their arrival at McCarran drew the attention of the soldiers, a severed head in hand and whatnot. Lawrence didn't seem to mind when young soldiers stared at him in awe, maybe he didn’t even notice. Killing the infamous Cook-Cook was no easy task and they knew. Maybe he even like it. 

“You killed one of the psychopaths on my shit-list? Let me see the scumbag's head...” The Major looked to Lawrence with surprise as he held up the head. “Yeah... that's Cook-cook. Did he always smell like this? Even before he was dead? And the fiends let this guy touch their _ food _ ?” The Major shook his head as he stared at disgusting sight. 

Lawrence nudged Vincent's arm, “Eat before your food gets cold.”

Vincent's brows pulled together as he stared into the small tray of macaroni and cheese. “I don't feel so good…” He muttered as he set his tray aside. Lawrence watched as Vincent jumped up and rushed to the nearest trash bin. The Ranger observed from afar as he finished his lunch. A few minutes into the ordeal he stood up and walked to his companion’s side.

Lawrence patted the small boy's back and waited for him to finish. “You gonna be alright?” He asked as he handed a bottle of water to Vincent. Vincent nodded. His thin limbs shook as he lifted the bottle to his mouth. Lawrence set a comforting  hand on Vincent's back, “can’t handle a few severed heads?”

“Those were the first people I killed,” he stated as he stared into the bin.

The Ranger’s light smile faded. “And they won't be the last,” He informed. “They weren't good people anyway,” he added. His tone more gentle.

“But they were people…” The boy muttered as he shook his head. He looked to Lawrence, as if the Ranger had some words of wisdom or anything to help him. Lawrence paused. They were just raiders, barely human, anymore… Drug addicts and thugs, they were only a nuisance. However, Lawrence remembered his first kill and how it kept him awake for days. Yet, any feelings of guilt or remorse slipped away over time. He never killed anyone innocent. “Does it make me a bad person?”

Vincent stretched his arms around Lawrence. “No not at all,” he stated, but the words weren't confident like they usually were. “Vincent…Nothing’s wrong with you for killing those raiders.” He hugged the young man and or a moment, Vincent had peace. 

The Kevlar vest pressed against him. So sudden, too sudden did he remember what was wrong with him. Vincent pulled away from the Ranger “I'm sorry,” he sniffled as he wiped teary eyes with his sleeves. His cheeks flushed and his gaze fell to the ground as he planted his  hands on his hips in some attempt to shrug off any intimacy the moment may have had.

“It’s normal to feel that way,” he said. “It means you’re human.”

Vincent looked up to Lawrence. The Ranger smiled reassuringly. “Thanks Lawrence.”

The rest of the day was open and the two took advantage of the peace. They lost track of time walking around the gates of Freeside in the Mojave. Outer Vegas was unremarkable and not exciting, like most of the sun scorched desert. The air was dry and the ground lifeless. Except for a few spots of grass, but even those patches were overtaken by the Brahmin. The vast sky of the Mojave held no clouds that afternoon.

Lawrence was quiet. Content with observation of the open plains with a cigarette and a Nuka-Cola. Vincent was just as fixated on the Ranger as Lawrence was on the wasteland. “Lawrence, mind if I ask about Marcus?”

Lawrence took the cigarette from his mouth, “Depends what you want to know.”

“You two seemed really close…” 

“We were,” Lawrence stated and Vincent looked up to him. “He was my best friend.”

“Friends usually don't get each other’s names tattooed…” Vincent muttered. Not entirely sure if he should have even said that.

“ Curiosity killed the cat ,” Lawrence said through his cigarette.

“But satisfaction brought it back,” Vincent smirked, however he made sure Lawrence didn’t notice. 

Lawrence looked down to him. He brushed his hand through Vincent's hair and shoved him away. “Alright smart-ass.” 

“Marcus was a Ranger too, right?”

“A damn good one too,” Lawrence said and the sense of nostalgia and regret hit him harder than any Legionnaire could. “I met him when I was about nineteen, going nowhere with my life. He convinced me to join the Rangers,” Lawrence smiled as he lifted his gaze to the horizon. “I joined, became a sniper, and went on from there trying to help people have better lives.”

“What did he do?”

“He was a sniper too, trained me and everything. We were a good pair…” His eyes looked back to the ground.

“What happened to him?” Vincent asked, careful and somber.

“We were ambushed along with a group of soldiers returning to our station by Legionnaires, a Legate and his cronies.” He raised the cigarette to his lips then exhaled. 

Vincent's brows knitted together as he cursed himself internally. “I'm sorry for bringing it up…” Vincent muttered as he looked to the scorched ground beneath his boots. “It was stupid to ask…”

Lawrence looked to Vincent then to the hills in the distance. “I guess we're both on revenge missions. You looking to kill Benny and I want to find the bastard who took the most important person in my life away.”

“That’s why you really out here?” Vincent looked up to him. A bright orange-yellow halo radiated around his profile. The afternoon sun highlighted every stray stand, tip of his black mane, and every coarse hair of his chin scruff. Eyes glinted like an oasis of pure water hidden in the mountains and seldom was something so beautiful found.

“A bit of exploring, a bit of revenge,” Lawrence shrugged. “Don't know why I picked you up though,” he chuckled as he looked to Vincent.

“I'm good company,” Vincent declared just before he tripped over a beam of wood, lodged in a pile of rubble. “Ow…” Lawrence smiled as he extended his hand to Vincent and pulled up the small boy. “I might be clumsy but otherwise good company.”

Lawrence smiled as he patted Vincent’s back, “you're alright, Vincent.”

Vincent tried to contain his smile, but failed of course. “Have any leads on the Legion guy you're looking for?”

“I remember his face, his eyes, his hair, everything; a gaping scar across his lips,” Lawrence stated with a gesture of his hand. “He was a scrawny boy, just a recruit. Honestly, I can only hope he hasn’t gone far.” His eyes narrowed, “I'll find him.”

“I'll be here to help,” Vincent looked up to him.

Lawrence looked down to Vincent then smiled and nodded, “I'd like that.” Vincent's lips curved into yet another bashful grin as a nervous chuckle escaped his lips.

Vincent arched his back as he stretched his arms. He rubbed tired eyes before he could coax them open, but the light that pierced the frayed curtains made it difficult to keep them open. Lawrence was still asleep next to him. His duster draped over him. Face peaceful underneath feathery black hair. Vincent blushed at his own thoughts. He brought his blanket  over his head as if to shield himself from any new ideas about the Ranger. Lawrence was such a handsome man… His eyes and smile were so hypnotic. A smile got Vincent every time. He couldn’t help but wonder if the Ranger felt the same. Or ever would.

He was scrawny and weak compared to the Ranger. A complete opposite. 

And a liar. 

If Lawrence knew the truth… Would he resent Vincent? It terrified him to think about, but it seemed to inevitable. Vincent sighed.

Lawrence turned on his back and took in a deep breath. He raised his arms and crossed them beneath his head then another heavy sigh. His brain mush inside his skull. He could almost here it as the slurry swirled around in his head. Cottonmouth again. He sat up and promptly took a long drink of water from the bottle at his bedside.

“You alright?” Vincent whispered.

“Didn’t sleep good,” he muttered as he held his in his palm. ‘Just takes a few minutes to wake up.”

Perhaps the Ranger just wasn’t a  morning person . Did he ever truly rest?

He always started with his boots. Surely he would have put on pants first if he didn’t sleep in pants. Did he only sleep in his pants because of company? What if he only slept in clothes because Vincent was around? His eyes widened at the thought. 

“I’m starved,” he said. “I’ll get breakfast.”

Vincent nodded as he peered out from beneath the blankets. Usually he would be hungry when he woke, however the thought of food made him nauseous today. 

The Wrangler was empty in the morning. Any patrons from the night before still recovered in their room. Plenty of open tables with no one around to bother him was something Lawrence enjoyed. Hot food was also a plus. Gecko eggs and meat. Fresh meat. He may have been a Ranger, but even the toughest Ranger could survive only so long on pre-war canned food. 

He unfolded a bounty poster. Another target, more caps. This one he hadn’t heard of. A lesser known thug that targeted caravans on the I-515… Up and coming and he couldn’t wait to squash the bug. Caravans however… They were guarded. One raider was no match for a guarded caravan. A group perhaps? Or a lone sniper. 

He folded the bounty and set it on the table. The seat across from him still sat empty. Food almost cold. Vincent took longer than usual. He took the plate and returned to their room upstairs. 

“Vincent,” he called as he opened the door. Yet the boy was nowhere to be found. “What’s takin’ you. Food’s getting cold…”

He set the plate on the nightstand. His brows narrowed as he looked around the room. Nothing out of the ordinary… Then he glanced back to the sheets. Blood?

“Vincent.” The Ranger’s voice was authoritative in spite of being muffled by the door. 

He tried to compose himself through the pain. “I’m here.” His voice still shook from jarring stabs at his abdomen. He stared to the door. Locked. 

“What’s wrong? You hurt?” The knob turned.

“I’ll be fine, I just don’t feel good.” Tears streamed down his cheeks. A knot in his throat swelled. He caught his voice before it would tell he was in pain. 

“Need me to get a doctor?”

“No, no!” He shook his head as he hands clenched his stomach. He shifted on his knees and a cry bellowed out. He couldn’t contain it. Being stabbed from the inside. The pain was unbearable despite how often he endured it.

“Unlock the door so I can get you help…”

“No,” he shook his head as he rocked himself. The only distraction from knots in his stomach. “I’ll be fine.  _ Really _ .” He groaned as the knots became more frequent. “Happens all the time.”

“Vincent…” The Ranger sighed. “Pain all the time isn’t normal.”

“Just leave me!” He ordered through another groan.

Lawrence’s head fell back on his shoulder as a long sigh escaped his lips. He set his hands on his hips and stared at the door, “Do you want me to stay with you?”

“No.”

“Alright,” he threw up his hands in defeat. “I won’t be out long.”

Vincent sighed in relief as he heard the door to their room shut. However, Lawrence’s departure did not take away the overwhelming pain he felt. Not even the perpetual sharp jabs at his abdomen or the invisible knife that carved at him from the inside out compared to the grief he felt from the burden of being born all wrong. 

The dam broke. Sobs echoed from the dingy bathroom. Every month. Another reminder of the boy he never was and the man he would never be. 

In these days, it seemed he lived in the bathroom. Back home, he wouldn’t have to. It was just him and his mother. He had nothing to hide and someone to help him. It wasn’t even a second thought to ask Lawrence for help. It was an embarrassment. Shameful. Disgusting.

Fingers wrinkled from soaking in water all day. Blood stained his nails, but at least all his clothes were clean and the situation under control. The worst was over. Yet, the pain lingered. 

He held his stomach as descended the stairs slow and gentle. Back still too stiff to stand straight. He scowled as he observed the crowds below. Too many people… His heart quickened as he hoped no one was watched him. Would they know? Could they tell? Luckily most were fixated on the cards before, potential earnings, and the one armed bandit. It seemed Lawrence was the only one who noticed him. He snuffed a cigarette butt in the ashtray, “Feelin’ better?”

Vincent winced as he lowered himself carefully in the chair. “Just a bit…”

“Sure you don’t want to see a doctor? It’s been three days. There’s a place here in Freeside, a clinic at McCarran…”

“It’s nothing,” Vincent waved his hand he looked to the floor.

“Well can I atleast get you lunch?”

He glanced to Lawrence. “Yeah…”

At least the nausea subsided. He stared at his plate, even though he felt ravenous he didn’t touch the seared brahmin chop. “Sorry I’ve been short-tempered lately,” he broke the silence.

Lawrence shrugged, “don’t worry about it.”

“Do you ever wonder why we are who we are?” He inquired as he began to cut the meat into small pieces. 

Lawrence’s brows furrowed. He returned his bottle to the crescent puddle stained in the wood. “What do you mean?”

“Why were you born to be Lawrence and I was born to be…” He paused as eyes fell. The gleam in his eyes wasn’t present. He may have not been the most confident, but something was lacking in the young man. 

Lawrence leaned forward on crossed arms. “I don’t know,” a gentle voice replied. “I wasn’t born who I am now though. Had to become that.”

“Hm,” Vincent hummed. 

“I think you’ve been stuck up indoors too long,” he pondered. He leaned back in his chair. An arm draped over the back. A confidence which Vincent knew he would never have. He looked up to the Ranger. A quick smile met his gaze, “We should do some target practice. Might make ya feel better. Shootin’ things helps me.”

“You keep flinching,” Lawrence stated through a cloud of smoke. “The gun ain’t gonna hurt you, it’s gonna hurt the target.” Vincent lowered his pistol with a sigh. The makeshift target seemed to mock him at this point…  He hadn’t hit it once since they started an hour ago. “Line the sights up with where you want the bullet and shoot the target.” Vincent raised the pistol once more through tired arms. Lawrence raised his hands to Vincent’s arms and looked over his shoulder, through the sights. 

The young man froze with the Ranger so close. He could hear him breathing. His chest to Vincent’s back. His hand atop Vincent’s hands. He adjusted Vincent’s aim. “Keep this posture,” Lawrence stated. His low voice sent a shiver down Vincent’s spine. His hand twitched, just enough to pull the trigger. He jolted as another shot echoed through the shantytown.

“Sorry!” Vincent sputtered nervously.

“It’s alright, you hit the target,” Lawrence grinned. Vincent looked to the simple target of a worn burlap sack, stacked atop broken drywall. His brows lifted and a smile crossed his face. A sudden rush of motivation filled him with glee. He could shoot a gun! 

“Just needed practice, see?” Lawrence shirked his duster as he sat in the shade of the wall. He popped the cap off a bottle and took a swig while Vincent stared down the neck of his. “Drink up,” Lawrence suggested.

“I’ve never had beer, or any alcohol before.” He muttered.

Lawrence chuckled as he turned to Vincent, “are you serious?”

“My mom didn’t let me...” he shrugged.

“Well you’re mom isn’t around,” Lawrence smiled before he took another sip. Vincent looked back to the contents of the bottle then boldly drank until he ran out of breath. Lawrence laughed as coughed up drops of the bitter liquid, “don’t drink it like that.”

“Honestly this tastes awful,” he grimaced.

“It can be an acquired taste, but I’ve had better,” he shrugged.


	4. Ring-A-Ding-Ding

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ooo I got kudos and way more hits than I expected! Thank you!

The room spun around him. He grasped the bed tightly as he stared, slack jawed at the ceiling. He feared any movement at the complete loss of his eyesight. What day was it? What time was it? He turned his head to look out the window, but it felt like he would fall through the bed. The door opened. Its creek echoed in his head. Somehow, even sound swirled about in unison with the room.

Lawrence leaned over him, “you alright?”

He stared at Lawrence until the words came to him. “Getting there.”

Lawrence held up a card. Shiny plastic with print much too small for Vincent to read, even if they didn’t move all about the room. “Got your passport while you still sleeping.”

Vincent managed a weak smile as he looked to Lawrence.

It was somewhat intimidating passing the soldiers in power armor stationed outside the monorail entrance. It must have been the helmets and their face that was unsettling. Or the heavy weapons they carried… Yet, rarely did anyone notice him with Lawrence at his side and in the crowd of much soldiers, he was lost in the height disparity.

The monorail was shaped like a bullet and radiated heat with a glare to rival the solar panel fields of Helios One. He followed Lawrence closely as he led them to seats in the back. Windows lined the wall, curved to the shape of a tunnel, surely would give a grand view of the Strip. 

“Wow,” he gasped. 

“I’d hold on if I were you,” Lawrence suggested as he stretched his arm across the back of their seat.

“You’ve rode the monorail before?”

“Only way to get to the Strip, other than the front door.”

His eyes darted around the cabin. Well-maintained for something two-hundred years old. Rusted steel screeched. Vincent halted his observations in place to listen.

The monorail started. 

Shaped like a bullet and just as fast. The force flung him back into his seat and Lawrence gripped Vincent’s shoulders as fell into him. The boy stared wide-eyed out the window. Faster than anything natural. His dizziness soon returned and he grasped the seat. Every muscle in his body tensed. The windows turned into a blur of colors. The monorail must have moved a mile a minute! He closed his eyes and could only hope his brain ceased spinning in his skull.

They stopped.

“You alright there?”

“That was so quick!”

Lawrence held him steady as they stood up, “First time is always fun.” 

Butterflies hatched in his stomach, fluttering about as his fingers tingled. What awaited him on the Strip? He couldn’t subside his anticipation as they navigated through the terminal. Soon the daylight of the exit pierced the dim hall. 

“Wow.”

Enormous buildings stretched into the sky. The lights of the casinos and shops battled the sun for dominance.  The towers stretched on forever in the distance. No end to the flashy lights. So many glamorous and wealthy people walked the strip casually while those in Freeside could barely scrounge enough caps for food. Here, caps were thrown to luxury. Luxury many would never see in their lifetime. 

Was it like this before the war?

The desert was staved off at the gates. Green,  _ emerald green _ grass grew freely to beautify the Strip. Palm trees stood tall. Their long leaves rustled with the wind. Birds of paradise bloomed beneath them, surrounded by bright flowers. Fountains of pure water cast a cool mist into the dry air. The bombs never fell here...

Lawrence nudged Vincent before he melded into the passing crowds. “Have you ever been to any of the casinos?”

“Yeah, I’ve been to a few.”

“I want to go to them all!” Vincent grinned gleefully as whipped his head back and forth to absorb all the flashy signs and lights. 

“How about the Tops first,” he suggested as he turned Vincent in the right direction. 

“Oh right…”

Cool air met them at the door. The casino was even bigger on the inside. Hundreds of people were already gambling and drinking their money away so early in the day. “Hey there, buddy!” A friendly voice with a twanged accent greeted them. “Welcome to the Tops! What can I do for you and your lady friend here?” The man smiled at Vincent as he looked him  over with the kind of eyes to spurn disgust.

“I’m not a girl,” Vincent informed through gritted teeth.

“Oh, uh…”

“I’m looking for Benny,” he sighed as Lawrence joined his side at the desk.

His demeanor quickly changed. “Whatsit to ya?”

“Just lookin’ to talk,” Vincent said. His expressions still had not forgotten the previous slight.

“He’s somewhere on the floor, probably at the largest congregation of sexy broads. But ah-uh. First, give up those guns.”

Vincent looked to Lawrence as the Ranger already had his holster unstrapped. “Ya friend here gots sense.” His revolver followed and then Vincent set his humble pistol on the counter while Lawrence removed his sniper rifle. “Get a load of that! You compensating?” 

“Well, I guess you’ll find out at four-hundred yards when I shoot your kneecaps out.”

“Ouch…” The receptionist shook his head, “I know you ranger types always have a big ole knife on ya.” Lawrence glared at the man as he pulled a rigid hunting knife from his sleeve. “That’s better! Now get outta my sight.”

Vincent eyed the Ranger as he whispered, “What else you got in there?”

“Why? See something you like?” He smirked. Vincent hoped the Ranger couldn’t hear his heart racing, because Vincent surely could. Such a comment let his imagination run wild. He tried to clear his mind as they walked the floor in preparation for more serious matters. Not one sign of Benny, but plenty of his cronies. “Vincent,” Lawrence reached for him. “Do you have any plan?”

“Not really,” Vincent muttered.

“Figured…” He sighed. “Let’s start with the usual; don’t get killed.”

“I think you can only escape death once—Wait, that’s him.” Vincent halted in his steps as he stared at the man.

“How can you tell?”

“The ugly suit.”

Vincent quickly made his way to Benny despite everything inside of him screaming “No!”. “Hey!” He shouted. Benny turned to him and so did his posse. They stared at the small boy; not armed and seemingly no wit. Vincent brought up his fists. “You tried to kill me once. Let’s make it a fair fight this time.”

Every one of them busted into deep laughter. Lawrence sighed as he followed Vincent. “What is this?” Benny managed to say through gasps for air.

“Fight me, you Brahmin shit!—Hey!”

Lawrence tightly coiled his arms around Vincent’s abdomen, “What I think my friend is trying to say, is that he would like to have a civil conversation with you.”

“Lawrence!” He screeched. “Let me down!”

“Don’t mind him, he’s already drunk today,” The Ranger explained. “I’ll be the mediator, if you don’t mind.”

“Uh huh,” Benny looked down to the two. “Alright,” he nodded. “We’ll talk.” He turned to his posse. “Show them to my room.”

“What the hell is wrong with you!” Vincent howled. He crossed his arms as he swiveled on the bar stool, back turned to Lawrence. 

Lawrence slammed his palms on the counter as he stood behind Vincent. “We are  _ outnumbered _ . Out- _ gunned _ .” Vincent glared over his shoulder. “Did you really think challenging him to fisticuffs was going to work?”

Vincent sighed. He propped his head against his fist. “I’m not like you Lawrence… I’m not smart or good with guns, but at least I tried something!” Lawrence turned the seat around. To Vincent’s surprise his expression wasn’t anger. The Ranger set warm  hands on Vincent’s bare shoulders, now frozen by the cold air of the casino. 

“I wasn’t born a Ranger, Vincent,” he explained in a gentle whisper. “And I’m not going to let you get shot in the head again. Alright? There are other ways to get revenge on this prick.”

Vincent glanced up to meet Lawrence’s eyes. If only he could be this close to the Ranger under different circumstances. He grasped the tall collar of Lawrence’s duster. “I never—”

The door opened and Lawrence pulled away. Not Benny. He yanked Vincent off the stool and behind the bar. Bullets ripped through the room. Vincent cursed himself. Once again his stupidity led him somewhere equally stupid and now he dragged Lawrence into it. The rain of fire closed and his eyes shot open. He sighed in relief as the Ranger pulled a tiny, snub-nosed revolver from his coat. He leaned to the corner and fired. 

One down.

Lawrence took in a deep breath before peering out again. Another shot. “Alright,” he jumped up. “We need to get the hell out of here before anyone else notices.” Vincent looked up to Lawrence as he paused stuffing his satchel with any food he found in the bar cabinets. “Uh, yeah do that, I’ll hide the bodies.” He pulled them one by one into the room from the hallway and shut the doors. “Don’t forget the booze,” he interjected and Vincent nodded.

Only a deathclaw could match the adrenaline that rushed Vincent’s veins. They snuck through the halls until they returned to the elevator and then from there… The both of them could only hope the rest of Benny’s henchmen weren’t out for blood. The floor was still busy as if nothing had happened. They blended through the crowds until they came to the receptionist desk.

“Guns,” Lawrence ordered.

“Ah, leavin’ so soon,” the receptionist reached from their crate of firearms. Lawrence holstered them faster than lightning could strike the earth. He pushed Vincent for door while he still tried to shove his own pistol in its holster. “Uh, come back I guess…”

Even with the doors shut behind him, it was little comfort. Only once they were away from the Tops did they rest. Lawrence sat on the sidewalk while Vincent paced behind him and cursed under his breath. Quiet steps approached and Lawrence was already back on his feet.

The man raised his hands, “I didn’t come here to fight.” He didn’t look like anyone with the Tops. In fact, he was rather plain in appearance and dress, but something was off about him. 

“That’s what every man says with a gun to his head,” Lawrence spat.

“Who are you?” Vincent peered from behind the Ranger.

“I am Vulpes Inculta.”

“Legion,” he growled.

“I am the greatest of his Caesar’s frumentari, I am merely a messenger.” The stranger stayed unusually calm. His eyes so vacant and hollow.... “Little escapes the notice of Caesar’s Legion.”

“Why are you here? What do want with us?”

“The eyes of the mighty Caesar—”

“Cut the ass-kissing bullshit,” Lawrence waved his pistol. 

Vulpes sighed, “Caesar requires you at his camp. He admires your accomplishments, despite the company you keep,” he looked to Vincent. “He bestows you the gift of his mark, allowing safe passage.”

“Uh huh, sure.” Lawrence mocked him.

“I’m sure it will surprise you to know we intercepted the man you’re looking for.” Like a creepy doll, the facade was never broken. “He is already gone from the Strip and on the way to the Fort.”

“What do you know about Benny?” Vincent finally cut in.

“Come to the Fort and you will find out,” he suggested before he turned away. The gun to his head completely disregarded. 

Lawrence glared at the Legionnaire until he was out of sight. Vincent shook his head and continued pacing, “What the hell am I going to do now?”

Lawrence holstered the revolver, “Fuck if I know.” He looked Vincent, “whatever you got involved in is more than some mundane delivery.” Vincent planted his  hand on his hips and sighed as he stared to ground, lost in his own thoughts and fears. “Vincent,” Lawrence extended his arm, “come on.”

It was already noon. The sweltering sun loomed above them, but they found an oasis of shade on the Strip. Vincent teared into another box of little chocolate cakes. Somewhere he had seen the box’s logo on a sign…  A little factory didn’t stand out particularly well in the sea of lights and flashy casino signs. “What if this is a trap?” He asked through a full mouth. “Maybe you shouldn’t come. I could go it—”

“No,” Lawrence declared. “I’m going with you.” He reached into Vincent’s full satchel for one of the many bottles stolen from Benny’s suite. 

He turned to him, “Lawrence, I keep leading us into bad situations. I don’t want to go and get you killed. It’s one thing to get myself killed, but I don’t think I could live knowing I…”

Lawrence looked to Vincent as he stole the bite-sized cake out of Vincent’s hand, “shut up and eat your cakes.” He took a long drink from the bottle then laid back on the grass. “Don’t think much on it right now.”

Vincent leaned on his elbow, “it's hard not to.”

“Then let’s talk about something else,” Lawrence suggested as he took off his sunglasses.

“Hmm,” he hummed in thought. The Ranger rubbed his eyes then looked to his companion. “Well, I wonder what deactivated means, when you said you were… deactivated.”

“I’m on a temporary leave. It happens pretty often, usually due to some… injury or other issue.”

“Why were you deactivated?”

“My superior wanted a mental evaluation on me. He thought I was getting ‘out of hand’ or some bullshit like that,” he waved his hand dismissively.

“Were you?”

“Maybe,” Lawrence shrugged and Vincent chuckled. “It’s only temporary. I have a few months left before they’ll call me back for another evaluation.”

“Oh…” 

Lawrence spread out his arms on the cool grass. Lush, green grass was a rarity seldom seen in the harsh desert and how it was here, flourished and lush, was baffling. Yet, he didn’t think too much into it. Some part of him believed it may disappear if he did, like a sun-stroke induced heat mirage. It would be difficult to get up from this. Vincent slowly lowered himself on the Ranger’s arm. His heart pounded out of chest and to his better judgement he didn’t stop himself. “So you’re gonna leave then…”

“Eventually I have to.” Lawrence raised his hand to Vincent’s shoulder. “It’s not forever though,” he smiled.

Vincent smiled in return. He stayed silent. He only wanted to relish the intimate moment with Lawrence. He didn’t have as much time left with Lawrence as he hoped, but all he could do was hope. Hope that Lawrence felt the same of him and it seemed likely. Hope that Caesar’s summoning wasn’t a trap. And… hopefully Lawrence wouldn’t be angry with him about his secret.

Gentle fingers combed the back of his hair. Vincent opened his eyes. Quite some time had passed. The late noon sun had disappeared behind the city skyline. Only a watery mixture of blue and orange still lit the sky. He looked up to Lawrence, “You wanna head back to the Wrangler?”

“Yeah.”

The Strip at night would be something to see.  All the casinos looked so inviting and welcoming like an old friend, except that old friend was out for your caps. Vincent hoped they could return on pleasure and not business, maybe if they make  it out of the Fort alive. Yet, he began second guess himself again. Maybe revenge wasn’t the answer.

Then there was the tallest one. The one that made the New Vegas skyline. The Lucky 38. A tall, white needle at the center of the Strip, yet no one hung around the entrance.

Except a few securitrons.

And one in particular had a familiar face. Vincent tugged Lawrence’s sleeve as he turned for the Lucky 38. “Victor? You’re here too…”

“Well howdy, pardner!” The securitron greeted them. “Glad I caught you here.”

“Why’s that?”

“Consider me your personal welcome wagon! Now hear this— the  head honcho of New Vegas, Mr. House, is itchin’ to make your acquaintance. Just head on inside!”

“What? Mr. House?”

“Mosey on in, pardner. Mr. House isn’t someone you want to go on snubbin’.” The securitron warned. Vincent looked back to Lawrence who held an equally confused expression.

“Things just keep on getting more interestin’,” Lawrence remarked.

Vincent opened the door carefully and stepped inside. Cold air. Stale air. Not a single soul, except for the two of them. “Right this way,” Victor led them to an elevator column in the center of the floor. “But, just a word to the wise,” he started in a hushed tone, “Mr. House won’t want your friend here in the Penthouse.”

Vincent looked back to his companion. “I don’t know much about House, Vincent, but it’s up to you.”

“I’ll go,” he nodded.

“ I’ll be right here…”

The doors opened. Victor wheeled himself inside first and Vincent followed. “Goin’ up!” 

The ride felt too long. His heart pounded in his chest. Anxiety radiated through his body. His pulse fell into tingling fingertips. He heard little of Mr. House. The reclusive owner of New Vegas. A ruler. The House. What  could he possibly want with Vincent? The elevator stopped and the doors finally opened. They were at the top of the tower. Vincent’s legs were lead as he walked out of the elevator. The view was incredible, but the height was terrifying. All of New Vegas and the surrounding Mojave desert. The entire valley surrounded him at the top of the world. 

The penthouse itself was magnificent. Entirely pre-war like the rest of the casino. A piece of time frozen in the wasteland. He stared out the windows as he walked around circular room. He halted in his steps as he  came across one side, covered from floor to ceiling in monitors. The screens flicked on. Vincent jumped back as a still image of a man filled the largest, center monitor.

“This meeting has been a long time coming, hasn't it? You've come a long ways, literally and, I suspect, figuratively as well.” Vincent’s mouth dropped as he looked around the room. Only securitrons. He looked back to man on the screen and cautiously stepped forward. “I have to ask—now that you've reached your destination, what do you make of what you see?”

“Vegas?” He muttered. “It’s incredible. It’s like nothing I’ve ever seen!”

“Of course you haven't. Vegas always was one of a kind,” the man explained, despite his lips not moving. Was he even a real person behind those screens? 

“I can only imagine what it was like before the war…”

“What you see down on the Strip is just a fraction of the city's former glory, and yet... more than an echo. I preserved its spirit.”

“You…preserved Vegas?” Vincent inquired quietly. “Who are you?”

“I am Robert Edwin House, President, CEO, and sole proprietor of the New Vegas Strip. I oversaw the city's renovations starting from 2274 onward. The Three Families are my employees. Before the Great War of 2077, I was the founder, President and CEO of RobCo Industries, a vast computer and robotics corporation.”

“You existed before the war? How… are you even alive?” Vincent stared at the consoles. Entirely machine. “That lifespan is impossible! Unless you’re a ghoul.”

“I see you've made a study of the topic. My knowledge of the science of longevity would fill several textbooks…” He informed in a somewhat pleased tone. “Perhaps, after a decade or two of economic reconstruction, I can commercialize these technologies and offer to others, such as yourself.”

Vincent kept a solemn expression, “That would be…interesting.” 

“We will have more time to discuss scientific endeavors after we discuss business. The reason I asked you here.”

“Righ, right,” Vincent nodded.

“The business is this; one of my employees has stolen an item of extraordinary value from me, and I want it recovered.”

“Oh, I don’t think I’ll be of any use—”

“But you already have been,” he stated. “This item is what you were supposed to deliver until Benny intercepted you.”

“You know about that?”

“Of course I know. Benny was my protégé.”

“Then why didn’t you intervene soon?” Vincent whined. “I got shot in the head y’know…”

“Why didn't  _ Victor _ intervene sooner, you mean?” He corrected. “Goodsprings is a bit too far away for me to reliably control a Securitron agent by remote. I can send and receive packets of data, at best. Victor's combat algorithms determined the proper course of action. Benny and his thugs were more than a match for a lone Securitron. When he alerted me, I instructed him to approach the site after Benny and the others had departed.” Vincent crossed his arms. “Never the less, you survived, and do not think I won’t reward you for this retrieval.” 

Vincent looked to image. “Alright, but…” Vincent shrugged, “I confronted Benny at the Tops and he got away, then a Legionnaire approached me saying they have him.”

“Then you know where to look. My only concern is the platinum chip. I do not care what happens to Benny.”

Vincent nodded, “and I’ll be rewarded?”

“Yes.”

“Something worth being shot in the head for?”

The voice sighed. “As for a taste of your rewards, you will have your own suite here in the Lucky 38. Retrieve the chip and comply with my demands and you may have whatever your heart desires.”

“Sounds great!” He grinned. “Uh, what about my friend? Can he come—”

“Your friend is allowed to the main floor and your suite only.”

“We’ll be off tomorrow morning! Is that alright?”

“Very well.”

Lawrence turned to the elevator as the door opened. He looked to Vincent in anticipation. “Hey--” Vincent waved him inside. “What’s going on?”

“I’ll explain later. We have a room here!” He informed, a gleeful smile stretched across his face.

Lawrence’s brows furrowed, “What?” The doors opened and Vincent rushed out.

“Wow!” Lawrence followed him. It was spacious. Working lights! Running water! Something that only existed between the singed pages of old-world books. “This place is incredible!”

“Vincent, hold on now,” Lawrence caught up to him. He turned Vincent around by his shoulders, “Vincent, this comes with price-tag. Why were you asked to come here?”

“Well, that chip I was hired to bring here… Mr. House wants me to get it. Benny has it.”

“And Benny is at the Fort…”

“Yeah, that’s the hardest part about the whole thing…”

Lawrence nodded. “And you want to go through with this?”

He nodded, “Yes. We’ll be rewarded for everything.” Vincent looked to the Ranger worriedly, “why? What do you think?”

“I don’t know much about House, no one does.” Lawrence pulled a chair from the dining table. “Doesn’t this seem a bit bizarre?”

“Why do you say that?”

“That securitron was following you. It’s clearly controlled by House.”

“Do you--don’t want to…”

“There’s more to this than what we know. This chip is important for a reason and I’m curious what it is…”

“You’re coming with me to the Fort right?”

Lawrence nodded, “Of course. When are we going?”

“Tomorrow.”

“We’ll stock up on ammo and get you armed before we leave,” he stated.

“But what do you think of all this?” Vincent grinned as he looked around the room. This one, a complete kitchen and dining room. Shelves were stocked full of food. Cans, boxes, cola and sarsaparilla bottles, and, of course, all varieties of alcohol. Pristine glasses, plates, and silverware quietly awaited use on their shelves.

“It is nice,” Lawrence said as he stood up. He opened the refrigerator and stared inside. He reached in slowly and took out an ice cold bottle of beer. He quickly popped the top against the counter and took a long drink.. “Can’t be too bad,” He postulated as he took out a few a more bottles.

The largest room was a bedroom. There was another bedroom, and an office attached to it, as well as a bathroom. It would be his room and if Lawrence wanted to share... Vincent was always open to sharing with the Ranger. “Lawrence!” Lawrence looked up from a magazine to Vincent as he came into the room. The young man wore only a rag over his wet hair, loose fitting clothes, and… the bulky bullet-proof vest that seemed to never part his body. Lawrence arched a brow as he took his cigarette from his lips. “There’s running water!”

Lawrence chuckled, “That’s third time you’ve told me.”

“It’s just incredible!” Vincent exclaimed as he rummaged through his bag. “There’s a few other machines in there, but I don’t know what they do.” He pulled out a spare set of underclothes. “And I can’t find any manual on them but I’ll  figure it out .”

Lawrence couldn’t resist a smile. “I found a few things you might like.”

“What is it?” 

“Some pre-war magazines about tech stuff, science, medicine…” He slipped through a small stack of the pristine papers. “That terminal there and the one in the office works.” Vincent sat on the floor with Lawrence. He surrounded himself with plenty of drinks and food, as well as a few books, but he instead fidgeted with his guns. 

“What are you doing?”

“Maintenance,” he informed. “I cleaned and lubricated your pistol.”

“Thanks,” Vincent grinned as he reached for a nuka cola. 

“You still have plenty of caps left?”

“Yeah. Why?”

“For armor and ammo, and anything we may need on the trip.” He set one tool aside to take a dirty rag in its place. “I’m almost done here, but you should get some sleep.”

“Honestly, I’m not tired…” He said. “I can’t sleep when I’m nervous.”

Lawrence smirked as he glanced up from his work, “I could think of a few ways to put you to sleep.”

Vincent choked on his cola. Once again he was at a loss for words, but blushing cheeks spoke well for him. He clenched his jaw as he looked over the Ranger. He set aside his coat and armor for the night giving something difficult to look away from for Vincent.  A simple undershirt, much like the one Vincent wore, yet Lawrence wore it better. 

Form. 

Fitting. 

That was the hardest part to get over, as it fit the brawny Ranger so well. It was difficult to ignore such things about him. Like a parched mouth in the middle if the wasteland vying for a sip of water,  _ difficult _ . He balled his fists and clawed the carpet in the process. Every flirtatious remark was hard to ignore and surely he must have notice Vincent's slip-ups by now. 

He had softened since they met. Definitely. 

"You alright over there?" Lawrence raised a brow as he set his revolver aside. Only Vincent's blank stare met his eyes. 

Vincent lunged for him, but the brick wall of a man refused to go down. Their lips had finally met. The taste of his beer and last cigarette still on his tongue. Lawrence pulled him closer, “And here I was thinkin’ you were oblivious.”

Vincent hit his chest as he laughed. “How long?”

Lawrence smiled, "I thought you were cute from the moment I met you."

Vincent laughed as he fell back onto the floor. "I was worried you wouldn't feel the same," he whispered. Yet he still was worried. It was hard to keep secrets, but to tell Lawrence could be trouble. He would leave… He would be angry… He removed his hands from groping the tight vest on his chest.

“But you went for it anyway.”

“I'm also worried I'll get you killed when we go to the Fort,” his grin faded. 

Lawrence grabbed Vincent by his ankles and pulled him back with ease. ‘I'm not going to die, Vincent.” 

"Please don't." He nestled his head under Lawrence's chin as the tears streamed down his cheeks to dampen the Ranger’s shirt. 

"Everything will work out," he kept his voice so calm and comforting. A gentle hand brushed his hair while another his back. For a moment in such tenderness one could forget he was such a rugged and hardened Ranger. “Don't tear yourself up over it, nothing's gonna happen.”

“I'm sorry,” Vincent sniffled. 

“It's fine to have worries,” Lawrence smiled. "I think it's time for sleep." Vincent nodded against his chest. Lawrence lifted the smaller man with not so surprising ease. He set the young man on the plush bed. The Strip offered so many luxuries, he wondered if he would survive the wasteland without them.

Vincent grabbed Lawrence’s shirt before he could pull away. “Don’t go,” he whispered.

“I’m right here,” Lawrence reassured him as he lay next to him. “I won’t go anywhere.”


End file.
